


ghost

by evelyn_hayes



Series: Klance Ficlets [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Dead Keith, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Galra Keith (Voltron), Ghost Keith (Voltron), Ghost!AU, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicide, Well - Freeform, help me, i think i missed tags, i write angst and i revel in the tears, if keith did kill himself saving the universe, look at me, so like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14319963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelyn_hayes/pseuds/evelyn_hayes
Summary: Tentatively, he reaches out to touch the glass with his hand, pushing gently. His palm passes straight through. He breathes, in and out. Okay. Let’s try this. He digs his heels onto the floor to prepare himself to jump—and slides right through the floor.He screams, floundering through the air, scrabbling for a grip and failing. He falls through several floors until he realizes that hello, he’s a fucking ghost—he can fly. Float? It doesn’t matter. What matters if how the hell he’s going to flu. Flap his arms like a crazy man? Just…wade through the air?Patience. Yields. Focus.Keith closes his eyes. Calms himself. Just like Voltron.He reaches out.





	ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mochaffee (https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochaffee formerly CelestialLion) for the prompt: "Keith dies on a mission with the BOM but wakes up back at the castle ship. He goes to the main room and watches as Kolivan calls to tell the team that he had died. Keith watches as his team take his death and break down. Have fun with whatever ship ya want fam!!"
> 
> I tried to break the write block. I did not succeed. 
> 
> Unbeta’d, all mistakes mine—please tell me if I missed something while proofreading at the ass crack of dawn :)
> 
> EDIT: Y'all asked for it. There's a sequel in the works! It's actually going to be a trilogy XDD

_____________________

 

The very first thing Keith notices is that he’s in a cryopod.

The second thing he notices is that he’s not breathing. Panic seizes him and he coughs, his own body involuntarily trying to shock him into breathing. When he _does_ find the strength in his body to breathe in, he chokes on his own breath. He splutters, trying to gain control over his body. It’s only when he bites his own tongue that it hits him—he’s in a _cryopod_. People aren’t supposed to be awake in one. Therefore, no oxygen would be circulating inside the pod…right?

Damnit. Science is _not_ his strong suit.

Screw science. His mind is screaming at him to get out of the pod and the yelling’s loud enough he’s getting a headache. He runs his fingers over the glass surface, looking for a weak point, a _crack_ or something he can take advantage of. Then again, the cryopod wouldn’t be cleared for healing purposes if it had any flaws. His anger gets the better of him and he kicks at the glass, frustrated and _needing to get the_ _fuck_ _out of here—_

His foot passes through the glass.

He stares at the anomaly. How in all of _space_ can he do this? What was happening to him? Why couldn’t he breathe? Why is his fucking foot sticking out of the cryopod—without _breaking it_? Why is this happening to him? _What_ is happening to him? Is he a fucking ghost or something?

Then he realizes he hasn’t been breathing for the past minute. And he feels fine.

Okay. So maybe he _is_ a ghost.

 _Come on, Keith_ , he tells himself. _Get a hold on yourself. Remember, patience yields focus_.

He steels himself.

Tentatively, he reaches out to touch the glass with his hand, pushing gently. His palm passes straight through. He breathes, in and out. _Okay. Let’s try this._ He digs his heels onto the floor to prepare himself to jump—and slides right through the floor.

He screams, floundering through the air, scrabbling for a grip and _failing_. He falls through several floors until he realizes that _hello, he’s a_ _fucking ghost—he can fly._ _Float?_ It doesn’t matter. What matters if how the _hell_ he’s going to flu. Flap his arms like a crazy man? Just… _wade_ through the air?

_Patience. Yields. Focus._

Keith closes his eyes. Calms himself. _Just like Voltron._

He reaches out.

What he finds is a connection. The spirits of the dead, the murdered. He sees Alfor smiling in his full glory. Keith memorizes his appearance to describe him to Allura and assure her he is happy when he realizes that he, too, lost the connection to the living. He sees other Alteans. A young lady, strikingly familiar to Allura. A guard, his armour shined and his shoulders squared. And he sees—god _almighty_ —he sees his _father_.

He’s less scruffy than Keith’s memory. After all, this is a haven for the dead. His smile is so _warm_ as he steps up to him and rests his hand on Keith’s shoulder.

He’s not falling anymore.

The fallen flicker out of view.

 

_____________________

 

The Castle’s hallways, Allura had said, were designed to be like a labyrinth; so that any and all intruders would be lost before they could mount an attack. Only those who spend their every living breath within the Castle would be able to pick their way through the extensive length of the hallways.

Keith, before his death, was an insomniac. He used to explore the Castle at night, memorizing every inch of the ship in an effort to feel like he was more at home—after all, it was only truly a home when you knew where everything was.

He’s glad for that experience now. If it weren’t for the long nights spent mapping out the Castle in his mind, he’d be lost now.

It’s a bit easier now that he’s a ghost. Long walks that would take approximately a half-varga or so to finish could be completed in a few ticks with a bit of phasing through walls. If he wasn’t on a timetable, the shortcuts would be useless—he was a ghost, which meant he couldn’t get tired, right? What’s wrong with a long walk through the winding hallways of a spaceship if you have an eternity to exist as a spirit outside mortality, outside the confines of time?

No, no. Keith needs to get to the lounge. Fast.

He needs to know that everyone else is okay. He needs to know that his sacrifice had _meaning_.

That’s the whole reason he did it—ramming his ship into the Galra cruiser to get past the defensive shields. His first thought it was his Galra backbrain that drove him to kill himself; knowledge or death, power or death. No, no. It’s been so long since he’s left Voltron, and while it didn’t bother him at first, the cold nature of the Blade of Marmora _does_ things to one’s psyche. Maybe it’s because he’s human. Maybe it’s the same for all the Blades. But there is a _feeling_ , a dark little idea that grows so large he can’t contain it. The feeling, the idea that he’s useless in this fight. He’s just one of many soldiers that can be sacrificed.

There’s this one memory he has from his childhood. It was a story his father told him, a little tale to scare him at night, about pilots who killed themselves in the name of their country. They each hoped that everything they did would help their country—but at the end, their sacrifice was for nothing.

The fact that their deaths amounted to nothing scared little Keith more than the actual dying. It scared him throughout his Garrison days, and it resurfaced when he joined the Blade of Marmora.

He needs to know that he hasn’t become one of those pilots in his father’s story.

 

_____________________

 

When he reaches the lounge, Keith pauses.

Is he ready for this? Should he just _continue on_ with the—perhaps false—knowledge that his death saved them all? Should he live with the lie? Should he torture himself with the truth?

No, he needs to face this. Lies always have a way of revealing the truth.

He phases through the door.

The first thing he feels is someone walking _through_ him and the _swish_ of the door opening behind him. Keith blinks, shuddering at the new sensation. He looks behind him to see a flash of tan brown before the door shuts with a slam.

Slowly, he looks back to the lounge.

Pidge isn’t there. That’s the first thing he notices. It’s enough to put him in a panic. Hunk’s breath of relief draws his attention, however, and Keith hears Hunk tell the others that Pidge is safe and with her brother. The squeezing pain around his stomach recedes.

Hunk’s been crying. Keith has never seen him cry. Hunk was always the rock of their team, always there to tell a salty joke or provide quality food to lighten their mood. But he’s young, a whole year younger than Keith and he hasn’t felt the pain of watching premature death like Keith has—his dad, hearing about Shiro being lost to the stars…This is new for him.

Coran’s sitting by Hunk’s side, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. His eyes are watery.

Allura and Shiro aren’t sitting on the couch. They’re sitting on the ledge of a window overlooking the stars. Allura has Shiro in her arms, her eyes twitching in an effort to keep the tears from falling in front of Shiro. He understands the sentiment—staying strong for a loved one so that they can seek refuge with you. Shiro’s _wrecked_ , eyes rubbed red and whole body shuddering with his stuttered breaths. He’s trying to say something, but it’s practically gibberish underneath all the gasps and the hiccups. Allura runs a soothing hand on his back, murmuring “it’s okay, Shiro”.

“No, no, it isn’t okay!” he yells, breaking away from her grip. “God. He was so fucking _young,_ Allura. He didn’t have to die. Not like some _kamikaze_ pilot.”

Allura stands up. “ _Kamikaze._ You’re talking about the suicide bombers who died during one of your Earth’s wars, right?”

“Not just _dead_ , Allura. They died to protect their country. But really, every single death was _meaningless_ because it never contributed to the solution!” Shiro grits out. “My _grandfather_ was a _kamikaze_ pilot. He suffered from serious depression and suicidal tendencies after the war, Allura. That war was supposed to _end shit like this._ It wasn’t supposed to kill an 18 year old!”

Keith’s father’s story. It was…real?

Did Keith die for no reason?

“Shiro. _Takashi_. Listen to me.” Allura’s Japanese pronunciation is somehow better than Keith’s. “Yes, Keith was young. He wasn’t supposed to die. But if it weren’t for his sacrifice, we wouldn’t have a third of the Galra Empire liberated from their rule. His sacrifice wasn’t pointless, Shiro. I know that’s not much of a consolation, but he was _not_ a _kamikaze_ pilot.”

The two of them stare at each other for a few moments. Keith takes the moment to relax his tense muscles. His death helped the coalition take back a _third_ of the Galra Empire. He didn’t die for nothing.

Shiro swallows, then nods. “Yeah. Yes. You’re right, Princess.”

“Come here,” she murmurs, and Keith turns around to let them have their moment.

Then Keith realizes Lance isn’t here. Which means Lance was the guy who walked through him. Lance, his _boyfriend._

He needs to find Lance.

 

_____________________

 

Keith finds Lance in Keith’s old room.

It’s just how he left it, with his jacket hanging on the coatrack and the bed made, his gloves on the shelf next to the bed. It’s a little bare than it originally was—but he hadn’t bothered making himself at home in the first place. Why would he? There was always a chance he would die fighting the Galra, as a paladin. There was always a chance he would have to leave the paladins. Why make a home in a place you’ll leave someday?

In his grand plan, Keith had never expected to find a home in the hearts of Lance Mcclain.

But he _had_ , and that was in the past. Now Keith was dead, a ghost, a _whisper_ of what he once was.

Keith has seen Lance cry on so many occasions. He’d always be there, to be Lance’s shoulder to cry on. But every single time, it is _heartbreaking_. Quiet sometimes, cold. But sometimes, loud, to proclaim his agony. This time, it’s a mix of both. Lance rocks back and forth, head during in his knees, arms clutching himself tightly. He’s sniffling, tears rolling down his cheek, but he’s not bothering to do anything about it.

Keith wants to cry. So much. He wants to feel the telltale burn underneath his eyes. He wants to feel the droplets roll down his cheek. But he _can’t_ , just like he can’t talk to Lance. He can’t help Lance. He can’t be there for Lance. He can’t be Lance’s shoulder to cry on, because it’s _him_ he’s mourning.

Keith had previously thought that he could be content with his death if he knew that he died for a cause.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Lance bites his lip, runs his tongue over the cut. Keith wants to hold him close and tell him that he’s _here_. He breathes in shakily. Wipes his tears on the sleeve of his jacket. Then Lance begins _talking_.

“K—.” Lance stutters over the word. “K—. Ke—. Keith.”

Something stirs inside Keith.

Lance rubs his eyes. “Wow. Asshole. You just had to go and die, huh?”

Keith steps forward.

Lance laughs. “Sorry. I guess I’m an asshole too. I mean. You decided to _die_ , right? That’s—I’ve been there, too, Keith. You know that. You talked me out of it. With gentle words. Your voice—it was so _soft_. I—I really fell in love with you right then. You didn’t mock me for my choice. You actually _talked_ to me, like I was a valid human being. And—and that? That meant so much to me, you know? I never expected such kindness from you. You’re…well, you’re you. And I shouldn’t be mad at you about it—” Lance breaks off. Coughs a little.

“I should be mad at me.”

Ghosts shouldn’t have hearts. They’re just _shells_ of what they were before. But why does Keith feel _his_ break into a million tiny shards?

Keith squats down in front of Lance. He runs his finger along his cheek, then cups his cheeks with both hands. Keith knows Lance can’t hear him. Lance didn’t know that Keith could hear him. And _still_ , Lance had spoken to him. Lance took a leap of faith that maybe, just maybe, Keith was listening.

Keith decides, for once, to follow in Lance’s example.

“Lance. Don’t do this to yourself,” he starts. “You shouldn’t be mad at me, because it was _my_ choice. It’s not your fault, darling— _I_ chose to leave Voltron for the Blade of Marmora. This isn’t on you, babe, and uh, looking back at it now, it…”

Keith smiles. How did he not realize this? Talking to Lance really does help.

“It’s not on _me_ , either. It’s not on the Blade of Marmora, it’s not on Voltron. This isn't’ anyone’s fault. This is just circumstance being shitty. We were—and are—fighting in a _war_ , Lance. Everyone’s looking out for what’s best for themselves, their people, their families. It just so happens that I was stuck in the crossfire.”

Keith reaches out to hug Lance. His arms ghost right through him. It’s okay, though. This is for Lance, but this is more importantly for _himself_. “Lance, I’m _here_. I’m content with what I did. I saved lives. But if there was one thing—just _one thing_ I’d change, it’s your sadness. I want you to be happy that I found my peace. I want you to find yourself an ocean of good and play in it all day. Please—Lance. I need you to do this for me, okay?”

Keith pulls back, looks Lance in the eyes. They’re staring farther away, somewhere above Keith’s head. A pang of disappointment echoes through Keith.

Then. _Then._

Lance’s gaze slowly _lowers_ , little by little until they meet Keith’s eyes.

“Keith?”

**Author's Note:**

> if you cried, don't blame it on me.


End file.
